


Door Invades a Press Junket and Some Other Stuff

by ScotlandEvander



Series: Don't Ever Change [11]
Category: Actor RPF, Benedict Cumberbatch Fandom, British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston Fandom
Genre: Angst and Humor, F/M, Gen, London, POV Alternating, POV Female Character, POV First Person, POV Male Character, POV Multiple, POV Third Person, Star Trek: Into Darkness, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-12
Updated: 2013-06-12
Packaged: 2017-12-14 19:20:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/840456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScotlandEvander/pseuds/ScotlandEvander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So, do you know the strangest thing that happened today?” Chris asks, arching an eyebrow as he looks at me. </p><p>“No,” I hedge as we reach the line of cars waiting. </p><p>Chris smiles, opening up the door for me. “I met your friend Cricket today. She announced who she was, set up a camera, and began to talk about a movie I made a long, long time ago.”</p><p>I smile, nodding. </p><p>“Turns out she loves McFly. Found out about them when she was living in London way back in 2004,” Chris goes on. He pauses for a moment, glancing out the window. “I looked her up after she left.”</p><p>“I take it you found Tom burdened with a glorious purse?”</p><p>Chris laughs, turning back to me, his eyes sparkling. “I did. What was she doing there today?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Door Invades a Press Junket and Some Other Stuff

**Author's Note:**

> To those of you who left kudos and/or reviews, many thanks! So glad y'all are enjoying this series.

OoOoOoOoOoO

_Dorothea_

I really wanted to sing that song from _Moulin Rouge_ as my connection took off from O’Hare. I had hummed this song about flying away to myself in 2004 when the I jetted off into the muggy late August overcast evening for greater and better things in London. Instead, I couldn’t remember the words or tune, so I just kept thinking _I’m on a plane, I’m on a muthafracking plane!_

Then I shoved an Ambien down my throat and passed out till I was over UK airspace.

This caused me to be groggy through customs. I am pretty sure I told the woman I was on a mission from God. 

At least I’d finally stopped thinking _I’m on a plane, I’m on a muthafracking plane_ in my head on loop. I was also no longer on a plane.

Now I’m in the baggage claim. There is this guy who seriously looks like Tom Hiddleston standing over ways. Other people think this taller than average person is someone famous, as they keep asking for photos and forking things over for him to scribble on. I’m not sure if he’s Tom. No one is screaming TOM HIDDLESTON!

Then again, I’m in England— land of keep calm and carry on. 

“Door!” 

This is what happens when you take drugs that weren’t prescribed to you, people. You see Tom Hiddleston in airports signing autographs after likely telling a custom agent you’re on a mission from God. 

She did laugh at me, so maybe she thought I was just being funny and quoting _Blues Brothers_? I did just come from Chicago. 

“DOROTHEA!”

Whoa. Who else has my name? 

“Pardon, I think he’s speaking to you,” says a woman next to me, lightly pulling on the sleeve of my sweater. 

“Me?” I ask, looking over at the kind old woman. 

She gives me a smile and nods. “He’s looked over at you quite a few times as he attempted to get away from his admirers. I take it he’s famous?”

“If he is who I think he is,” I allow. “Why is he here? I only told Ben and Pamela—”

Oh.

Pamela must have told Tom about my flying off to London half cocked. I had planned to find a hotel as soon as I found some free Wi-Fi. They do that in London, right? 

I’m such a ditz. 

“Bless you, thank you,” says a man who sounds like Tom Hiddleston somewhere above my head. “I thought she wasn’t going to ever stop.” 

“You’re welcome, young man,” the old woman says. “I sat next to her on the plane. She was out like a light the whole flight.”

She gives me a look, one that I can’t exactly pick out in my dazed state. 

Tom somehow managed to get my luggage. How on earth did he know the bright polka dot stuff was mine? When did it come out of the thingy? I was standing right next to it. I sure didn’t tell him what luggage belonged to me. 

Mental note: DO NOT TAKE AMBIEN.

Why did Jason even have any? He saw green bunnies when he tested it out. Not that he needs help falling asleep.

Tom exchanges a few more pleasantries with the old woman before he guides me out of the airport to a waiting car. There are cameras going off all around us, mostly cell phones. 

This is so bizarre.

“Will Pamela be jealous?” I inquire. “And will I hate you when I’m not so foggy because my hair looks like a bird’s nest?”

“Your hair looks fine, darling,” Tom assures, putting the luggage into the boot of the car that is sitting along the curb. 

“Do you drive?”

“Not usually. Pamela mentioned you had packed as if you were moving house,” Tom says, sounding a combination of curious and uncomfortable. “What did you tell customs?”

“I think I might have said I was on a mission from God,” I say in a Chicago accent.

I don’t expect Tom to get it, but he belts out in a full on Tom Hiddleston Laugh™. Several people turn and stare. I’m sure more cameras snapped.

“I…I don’t know why they let me in,” I say, looking around. 

OMG.

I am in fracking London. 

I paid two thousand dollars for a business class ticket, one way, to London. 

And I didn’t make a hotel arrangement.

Or arrangements to get my butt to Cardiff, where Ben is currently located until the second.

I am an idiot.

I did close my shop down, right? 

I hope Basil is okay.

OMG.

I left Basil alone in the apartment assuming Jason would return.

I am the worst— oh. Wait. I gave my key to Pamela. I’m sure she dealt with the Barking Menace. 

How’d I get into the car?

“You’re Cricket?”

I blink and find a man sitting in the front seat. Well, of course he’s in the front seat. He’s driving. I am in the back seat.

I’m in a car. I’m in a muthafracking car.

Stop it.

“Yeah. I’m Cricket. I’m…”

I trail off, looking away as the car pulls away from the curb.

“I believe she took a sleeping pill,” Tom says from somewhere. “Clearly, it is having adverse effects.”

There is a silent question asked but Unknown Man. 

“The woman who sat next to her on the plane simply said she slept the entire flight. She was woken up by the flight attendant before landing.”

When did Tom have this conversation with the old woman?

I am NEVER taking Ambien again. Next time I want to sleep on a plane, I’ll just take some Benadryl. 

OoOoOoOoOoO

* * *

OoOoOoOoOoO

_Tom_

Tom had Luke drop them off at his flat so he could feed Door in a non-public location. Tom hoped feeding her would cure Zombie Door Syndrome. 

His wishes were answered. After some breakfast and several cups of tea, Door slowly became more aware of her surroundings and began to make a bit more sense each time she opened her mouth. After a shower she’d reverted to Fully Functioning Door. 

“My life is so surreal,” she muttered, clicking around on her laptop. 

Tom watched her over the rim of his tea cup. She had been checking her email for the past fifteen minutes, frowning and shaking her head a lot. She pounded on the keys a few times till she began to hum a song Tom wasn’t familiar with. 

“What are you humming?”

Door glanced up from the laptop, meeting Tom’s gaze for the first time in almost an hour. She appeared more exhausted, her eyes bloodshot and surrounded by dark circles. Even after a shower her hair was still going in various different directions. 

“A song from high school. I don’t know who it’s by, but it’s called ‘Running Away’ I think. Well, the chorus is ‘ _So, wh-h-h-h-y are you ru-u-u-u-nning a-a-a-a-away._ ’ I’ve run away,” Door announced. 

Tom nodded, lifting his tea cup back up to his mouth and taking another sip.  

“You and Pamela are on Tumblr! And without the purse!” Door wailed out of nowhere. 

Door yanked out her phone and began texting. 

Tom cleared his throat. Door looked up, appearing a bit dazed. Tom leveled her a serious look and asked, “What is your plan, Door?”

“Well, Ben’s going to be back at some point on the second. Or he’s got stuff to do on the second for _Star Trek_. I don’t know your schedule because you’re Tom Hiddleston and not my friend.”

Tom felt rather hurt. “I’m not?”

“No, wait, I said that wrong. You’re not Ben.”

“No. I’m not Ben, seeing I go by Tom.”

“Brain died. Come back later.”

Tom sighed, deciding he’d let her be. “Well, you’re free to remain here till you figure yourself out. I’m leaving next week, though.”

“Oh. Vacation?”

“Yes, in a sense. Planned before I met Pamela, or I’d be in Texas.”

“You deserve a vacation,” Door said, looking away. 

“Of course I do,” Tom agreed. 

“Where you going?”

“Budapest,” Tom said, turning to put his tea cup in the sink. “I think I’ll also go to Paris. It’s been awhile since I’ve gone without having to work. I’m not sure yet.” 

Door nodded, shutting her laptop. She stared blankly ahead of her for a long time. Tom took another pull from his tea cup. 

“I…okay. I didn’t plan, but I’m Door,” she said, still staring into space. “I’ve got money of my own, separate from…” Door waved her hand around the air before going on, “Plus, all the profit I’ve gotten from my recent burst of business. I think I can rent something somewhere…”

“You are more than welcome to stay here,” Tom assured her. “You staying here whilst Ben’s out of town won’t be as strange as when Pamela stayed with Ben, shall it?”

“No. I should call Ben. I never did tell him when I’d get here,” Door explained, pulling her mobile out again. 

“I let him know.”

“Oh. Thanks. I’m a mess.”

Her head crashed onto the table, right on top of her laptop. 

“You are. Might I inquire why?”

“I don’t even know,” Door moaned. “I want Ben.”

He wasn’t sure if she wanted Ben to be there instead of Tom or she _wanted_ Ben and that was the steam of her problems with Jason. 

Tom chewed on his lower lip, studying the mass of ginger hair spread out over his kitchen island. 

Pamela had mentioned the couple hadn’t been speaking the passed week and had finally admitted to what had been bothering her at the ranch the previous weekend. While Pamela outright refused to actually put what she feared into words, Tom was sure Pamela was suspicious Jason and Kirsten were carrying on an affair. Going over what little Tom knew of the pair, he couldn’t completely throw Pamela’s theory out. He hadn’t been looking for it, but now that he had put thought into what he remembered of that day, Tom could understand how Pamela might have drawn her conclusion— especially with the base of knowledge she was building upon. 

“I could put you on a train to Cardiff,” Tom offered, setting his tea cup in the sink behind him. 

Door lifted her head up and stared at him. He watched her debate for a moment on going to Wales before shaking her head. 

“No, I’d just be in the way. I need to be here, in London. If you really, honestly do not mind me crashing here, I’ll stay. If you want me out, I’ll leave.”

Tom leveled her a look. “Would I kick you out? I’m hurt you’d even think that.”

He threw a hand over his heart and looked as crushed as he could muster. 

“Well, I don’t want to take advantage of your nicesoscity,” Door tried.

Tom smiled at the memories that word brought to mind.

“Also, you’re Pamela’s boyfriend.”

“You’re her friend and she technically sent me to you. Sound familiar?” Tom reminded Door. “Also, you only like me for my acting.”

“True,” Door agreed, completely serious. “Well, can you get me a map of the area so I can figure out where I am? I need to walk the streets and I don’t want to get lost.”

Tom quirked his eyebrow, but did as requested. 

OoOoOoOoOoO

* * *

OoOoOoOoOoO

_Benedict_

I love my job. I really do. I love everything in my life right now: the success, the acting opportunities, the people.  

I adore everything.

Honestly.

I swear.

But, I am exhausted, hungry, and I think I’ve spoken of the same thing a hundred times and it has nothing to do with the movie I’m trying to promote.

Why does it matter if I’m dating someone? Why is everyone obsessed with my personal life? Every single person has asked me the same basic question: why are you single? 

I loathe promotion. 

I’m not sure anyone enjoys promotion— the parade of almost faceless reporters who file through and ask the same questions till they sound like cattle fodder…

I am quite tetchy. Luckily, I’ve had manners drilled into my being so I’m keeping my bad temper to myself. 

Also being goofy with some of the reporters eases the tensions— especially when they ask me questions about my personal life. 

I have no personal life. I’m a complete loser who sits at home when he’s not working reading a book. And I would rather stay home than go out. 

I tell people this and they think it’s adorable. When did sitting at home being antisocial become adorable? 

I believe I’m mostly cranky due to the fact I wrapped Sherlock at midnight, came straight to London and have only had maybe a few hours to myself before the early morning photo call and press conference.

“Are you ready Mr Cumberbatch?”

I look up at the person manning the door of the windowless room I’ve been trapped in the last two hours. I nod my agreement and straighten my jacket, sitting up straight once more. I put a polite smile on my face as I turn to greet the next reporter, who I realize no one has told me the name of…interesting. Usually the woman at the door tells me who I’m about to speak to…

My eyes go wide as Door enters the room. Her hair is tamed and she’s dressed in a flower patterned dress in black and white, a white cardigan and heels.

Bugger.

Those shoes ought be illegal. 

“This is so _Notting Hill_ ,” Door announces, sitting down in the chair across from me. 

I try not to watch her cross her legs.

“Only, in this day and age, they were confused on where my camera person was, or why I didn’t want one. I said I was uber low tech and did my own work, so I guess you can thank my father for buying me this four hundred dollar digital camcorder and this funky tripod. I’ve used it quite a bit today. Not exactly what he had in mind when he got it for me. He wanted shots of Canada and the Alaska Highway.”

She gets back to her feet and hooks the tripod object to a spare chair. Once the contraption is stable, she fiddles with the camera.  

“You do realize you won’t be on camera,” I point out. “They usually do a few shots of the reporter, you know?”

“Eh.”

She flaps her hand at me before hitting a button on the camera and sitting down. 

“How are you even here?” I ask, not looking anywhere other than her face. 

This is only the second time I’ve seen her in person. She’s not sweaty, not embarrassed, nor does she have grass stains on her anywhere. She’s pulled together and looks quite professional.

Other than those shoes. 

“What do you mean? Here as in this press junket or here in London?”

“Press junket,” I clear up, knowing full well how she came to find herself in London. “How’d you get in here?”

She’s got the press credentials around her neck. She fiddles with them for a moment before grinning.

Danger, Will Robinson! Danger!

“Luke,” she says as if I know who Luke is. “He set it up. I think mostly so I’ll stop making fun of Tom.”

Luke Windsor. Got it. 

“Tom’s publicist got you into the press junket for _Into Darkness_?” 

Door shrugs. “I don’t know. He showed up this morning, told me to dress up and grab a camera. I just grabbed the entire camera bag I packed and followed. And BAM! Here I am talking about McFly with Chris Pine!”

She straightens and beams at me. 

She is having the time of her life. Her eyes are alive, dancing and she is radiating with energy. 

She’s honestly happy for the first time in a long while. I cannot help but match her smile. 

God, she’s gorgeous.

“None of them have got a clue who I am, so I guess there are still people in this world who don’t want orange purses! And I don’t have one today!” Door exclaims, hands fidgeting with one of her earrings. 

I’d forgotten how she cannot remain still. Speaking through video chat always looses this aspect of her. 

“An orange purse?”

“Exactly! Oh! Here,” she says, leaning over and pulling a bag to her. She hefts it up and hands it to me. She goes back to fiddling, this time choosing the sliver cuff on her wrist. “I’ve been trying to show off the bag as a distraction. Only Alice Eve and Simon have bitten. Simon was all for setting up my own web site, but I think that was him just going along with my insanity. Or the fact I didn’t want to talk about _Star Trek_. I got the feeling he was somewhat tired of the subject. I saw him right before you. He let me take a picture of him with the bag and told me I was free to post it, as long as I tagged him.”

“What did you talk to Simon about if not the movie?” I wearily ask, studying the bag she’s given me. It’s a plain leather satchel in black. Nothing like the orange thing Pamela had given to Tom. I wonder if it’ll even show up on film against my dark clothing?

“Oddly, Tom Hiddleston. That’s how we got on the topic of purses,” Door admits. “Simon’s the only one who caught me out before my two minutes were up, so I told him how I wound up here. He agreed to be the next purse victim. I let him pick out which one he got to be burdened with.”

“You have more than one bag?”

How’d I fail to realize she had a bunch of purses with her?

“Yeah, when Luke said grab a camera and I grabbed my camera bag, I failed to remember I used the camera bag to store a few smaller handbags. So, I have a few on me. Wanna be a tree of handbags?”

“A tree of handbags?” I echo faintly. 

She shrugs, suddenly producing a bunch of smaller handbags from somewhere. 

“No one’s noticed I’m carrying around a bunch of handbags. Well, other than Alice Eve. She noticed right away and wanted to look at them. Saldana was all shop— quite professional. Quinto was a little weary of me since he was the first one I saw and I wasn’t sure what I was doing yet. It was with him I unloaded the camera bag and started to carrying them all outside the bag. Just to see what would happen.”

She shakes her head, before getting giddy again. 

“Oh! Then I saw Christ Pine! He was mostly embarrassed as he didn’t think anyone had seen _Just My Luck_. I’ve seen it a few times. I love McFly.”

“You do realize this whole interview has been you talking while I’m sitting here holding your purse?” I ask, staring at the bag in my hands.

“Yeah. Oh, well,” she shrugs, standing up. “Stand up. We’ll make a tree out of you!”

I stand. She angles the camera before she drapes me in the various bags she has on her. I feel like an utter fool, but allow her to be herself— mostly due to the fact she’s utterly enjoying herself. It’s…catching. 

My own bad mood is melting off, pooling at my feet. Thanks to Door, I might make it through the rest of this press junket with a smile on my face.  

“You’re doing _The_ _So Graham Norton Show_ tonight, right?”

“It is just _The Graham Norton Show_ ,” I correct, as she tries to hang a bag from my nose. “My nose is not that big.”

“No. Hold it in your teeth and I’ll shoot a picture.”

I open my mouth and she puts the strap between my teeth. I bite down, watching her as she spins around, grabbing a camera from somewhere. She snaps a photo, takes the purse out of my mouth and begins to gather her belongings together. 

“So, _The So Graham Norton Show_?” I ask, handing her a few of the other purses she draped on my person. 

“Showing my age. It was _The So Graham Norton Show_ when I first started watching BBC America, back when they played actual BBC shows instead of _Next Generation_ and _Kitchen Nightmares_ all the time. And why did he drop he ‘so?’ Whatever. Can I go with you?”

“To the show?”

“Yeah? Luke only pulled strings to get me into this, which I think was to get me out of the flat and away from Tom, though I don’t know why he had to do that as I’ve been entertaining myself since I got here,” Door babbles, somehow getting all the purses draped over her arm and the larger bag covering them so she doesn’t look like a bag lady. 

“Yes, of course,” I quickly agree as the door opens. 

I’m still standing, which the person at the door thinks is a little odd. 

“Miss?” the person asks, seemingly realizing she doesn’t know Door’s name. Her eyes go quickly to the badges around Door’s neck and she relaxes a little. 

“Later, Cumberbatch,” Door salutes me and exits the room. 

Bewildered, I wave back. 

* * *

Karon is shuffling me along to a car after walking the red carpet for the premiere to get me to the studio to film _Graham Norton_ when Chris slides up next to me. 

“So, do you know the strangest thing that happened today?” Chris asks, arching an eyebrow as he looks at me. 

“No,” I hedge as we reach the line of cars waiting. 

Chris smiles, opening up the door for me. “I met your friend Cricket today. She announced who she was, set up a camera, and began to talk about a movie I made a long, long time ago.”

I smile, nodding. I get into the car and Chris follows me, much to Karon’s annoyance. She gets into the front seat. I’m not sure where Chris’s publicist (or who ever he has with him) went. 

“Turns out she loves McFly. Found out about them when she was living in London way back in 2004,” Chris goes on. He pauses for a moment, glancing out the window. “I looked her up after she left.”

“I take it you found Tom burdened with a glorious purse?”

Chris laughs, turning back to me, his eyes sparkling. “I did. What was she doing there today?”

“I believe it was Tom Hiddleston’s publicist’s idea of a prank,” I offer. “Or Tom’s. I was as baffled as you when she turned up. She attempted to explain it to me, as I guess she got to me late in her…day, but I am still unsure what the purpose was other than to get her…to stop making Tom her target.”

Chris shakes his head. Part of me expects him to be pissed that Cricket took up two minutes of his time when he ought to have been working, but all he does is laugh. 

“God, I thought it was so crazy. I figured it was something the two of you were trying to pull over on the rest of the cast, but after I talked to some of them, none of them thought it was strange. I guess it was only me she started talking about a movie I made eons ago.”

“You speak to Simon?”

“No. What’d she do with him?”

I shrug. “She mentioned she tried to distract people with her purses, but only Alice and Simon noticed. Simon said he wanted to be burdened with a glorious purse.”

“Simon’s sort of a goofball,” Chris offered as the car slowed down. “Very _Notting Hill_ someone said. So, Cricket?”

“We’re friends. She’s in London for a few days and I…well, I haven’t been,” I explain. “She’s been staying with Hiddleston.” 

“I gathered that,” Chris easily says, opening the door and getting out of the now stopped car. The noise hits me full force as the fans gathered outside the stage doors explode as Chris gets out of the car with a wave and smile.  

* * *

“Are you sure you don’t want to be on the show?”

“Bless you, but I’ve got an appointment later I cannot miss. I’m just dropping her off.” 

“Dumping me off.”

“I’m not simply dumping you off, darling.”

I walk into the green room to find Graham Norton standing in front of Tom Hiddleston and Door, who is staring at Tom in an annoyed manner.

“BEN!”

Tom throws his arms out and moves across the room, giving me a huge, bone crushing hug before backing up to hold me at arm’s length.

“You’re much to thin, old sport!”

Tom claps me on the back and spots Chris entering behind me.

“Another Chris!” Tom booms, letting me go fully to attack Chris. 

Chris merely gets his arm almost jerked out of his socket by over exuberant hand shaking.

“Tom Hiddleston,” Tom announces letting go of Chris. 

“Chris Pine,” Chris supplies, looking mildly bemused.

“Lovely to meet you! I must dash. Take care of Door, Ben.”

Tom claps me on the back and escapes before anything else can happen. How’d he get in here without anyone noticing?

“Door?” the room asks. 

“I’m Door!” Door says, waving. “I just wanted to see the show and for some reason Tom seemed to think he had to walk me in here instead of telling me how one goes about seeing this thing in person.”

She shrugs, looking over at Graham for a moment then back at me. 

“She’s a friend of yours?” Graham asks, turning around to face me. “Lovely! We’re out of seats, but you can sit backstage if you’re quiet.”

“I’m always quiet,” Door assures. 

“I thought your name was Cricket,” Chris says, stepping around me. He peers at Door, who is still dressed in the same outfit she was wearing this morning, only now she’d sporting what appears to be Tom’s leather jacket over the top. 

Those heels still ought be illegal. 

“I have many names,” Door says, smiling. She removes the leather jacket.

At some point she lost the sweater.

No wonder she was cold. Her dress is strapless and there is a lot of skin now showing. 

“Cricket is, well, I guess the professional name I go by,” she finishes, folding Tom’s jacket over her arm and looking up at Chris with a smile. 

I sit down on a couch and try to wrap around…well, everything. 

It’s not working. 

OoOoOoOoOoO

* * *

OoOoOoOoOoO

_Tom_

“You sure that was a good idea?”

“Yes. She needed to get out of her own head for a day,” Tom reasoned, fiddling with the power cord of his laptop. 

“So, you and Luke sent her off to a press junket armed with a camera and a few purses?”

“We didn’t know she was armed with anything other than a camera, if I’m honest,” Tom admitted, glancing up at the screen. “And I wholeheartedly didn’t think she’d get as far as she did. I was sure someone would out her and she’d end up getting kicked out. I didn’t know she’s bumble around like Hugh Grant and manage to see everyone.”

“She saw every single one of them! She actually interviewed a few of them!” Pamela exclaimed, looking a combination of confused and amazed.  

“I know, darling. I dropped her off at _Graham Norton_.”

“What?”

Tom quelled his laughter. “Ben’s filming an interview for the show to air tonight. _The Graham Norton Show_ is a little like your late night talk shows.”

Pamela nodded. 

“I wasn’t sure how to get Door backstage other than personally seeing here there. They let me in. I left her with Ben. And another Chris.”

Pamela groaned and Tom chuckled. It was quite easy to charm his way into places he ought not to be sometimes. 

“Oh god,” Pamela moaned, putting her face in her hands.

Tom cleared his throat after the pair had been silent for a moment. “So, uh, have you seen, er, Jason?”

Pamela lifted her head from her hands, sighed and looked off to the right. Tom knew that was where the sliding glass door was located leading out to her tiny balcony with a view of the motorway and parking lot.  

“Yes,” she said finally. “I saw him the today. He behaved as if nothing was wrong.”

“He didn’t ask after Door?”

Pamela shook her head. “No. And…I was out in the parking lot later, getting ready to leave when I saw Jason getting into a car that wasn’t his. At first I assumed it was Dan or someone from his class, but…”

Pamela pressed her lips together and glared at Tom. 

“You’re not glaring at me, are you, darling? I had nothing to do with the car.”

“Oh, I know. I’m just…I think…”

“Spit it out.”

“I think it was Kirsten.”

“Kirsten? Dan’s step-sister? How would she get on a military base?”

“I…Dan…uh…she…Jason…I don’t know.” Pamela groaned and put her head in her hands. “I think something is going on between Kirsten and Jason, so I’m seeing things everywhere.” She let out an annoyed noise. “I’ve got no proof other than my gut feeling I’ve had since the first time I met Kirsten at Jason’s graduation from pilot training.”

“I know, darling,” Tom said, feeling helpless. 

“No one believes me, but something…happened,” Pamela insisted, lifting her head up. “And might still be happening. I know Door and Jason don’t seem like a good fit…as she’s so…strange and he’s so utterly normal and they have nothing in common, but…Jason doesn’t seem like the sort to cheat.”

Tom didn’t know Jason well enough to agree with that statement. He swallowed thickly and offered, “Sometimes things break.”

Pamela stared at him, incomprehension in her eyes. 

“Oh, darling, I forgot you don’t already know all the facets of my life,” Tom sighed, smiling fondly at the woman on his computer screen. “I doubt Door cared to rattle it off to you at any point, but my parents are divorced. Since I was a teenager.”

“Oh. I’m, uh, sorry,” Pamela tried. “I…well, er, I…”

“It was a long time ago and we’ve all healed,” Tom quickly explained. “It was quite distressing at the time, but I found my own way of dealing.”

Pamela nodded, though Tom knew she had no clue his method of dealing had become his profession.

“I don’t remember when my parents split.”

Tom blinked, shock at her statement clear upon his face. She gave him a small half smile. 

They really had along way to go to really get to know one another. 

“They get along great, but for as long as I remember, they’ve never been together. I never found it all that strange till I was maybe six or seven and it suddenly occurred to me my mother had a different last name from me. I’m dense, even with my own family.” 

“I feel so foolish. We’ve spent all this time speaking, yet I seem to know so little of your family, except you keep in touch,” Tom laughed, a little uncomfortable. 

Pamela smiled at him, a breathtaking smile that told him it was perfectly fine. 

“I don’t find it bizarre or strange, so I don’t bring it up,” Pamela allowed. “I know you’ve got two sisters, you are quite close and I even met Emma. Sarah lives in India, right?”

“Yes,” Tom said, pleased she’d remembered their names. “You’ve got…”

“I’ve got a, well, a little brother,” Pamela said. “He’s adopted. My mom adopted him when I was about eight and the first thing I told her when she introduced us what he didn’t look like me.”

Pamela laughed. Tom grinned. 

“He’s from India,” Pamela supplied when she’d ceased laughing at the memory. 

“I would think he would look vastly different,” Tom allowed.

Pamela nodded. 

They spent the rest of the evening chat exchanging family antidotes and photos to go along with the tales. As it neared almost three in the morning, Pamela finally realized the time on Tom’s end.

“Thomas! Why didn’t you tell me what time it was?”

“I don’t need to be up early,” Tom reminded her. “I’d rather speak to you than sleep.”

“Thomas.”

“I know, I know, but I feel like hearing these kinds of stories, darling. I can’t wait to meet your family,” Tom said, staring at the photo she’d sent him of her brother, Simon, and her hiking somewhere in the wilderness of Colorado. The scenery was breathtaking, as well as the two people in the photo. While it was clear they weren’t related by blood, the bond they shared as brother and sister was clear in their body language in the photo. 

“Yeah. I can’t wait either,” Pamela admitted. “I guess Door stayed with Benedict tonight?”

“I had her belongings messengered over to his flat when I got home,” Tom explained, cracking his neck. 

He was stiff from sitting in the chair for three hours. 

“Do you have any idea when she’s coming home?”

“No. She’s not spoken of why she is really here to me,” Tom admitted. “Part of the reason I pushed her off on Ben today even though I knew he was busy, and he’ll likely strangle me later, was because she will speak to him on personal matters. Remember, he’s her friend.”

“She your friend, too.”

“I know, sweetheart, but I’m not her friend like Ben’s her friend. She came here to see Ben, she came here because Ben’s here. I’m a byproduct.”

“That sounds wrong.”

Tom chuckled. “I know. I’m not mad, or upset. I know on some level Door and I are friends, but…it’s different.”

“I know what you mean. Door is quick the make friends,” Pamela said. “She lets almost anyone in and is…well, quite friendly for a self proclaimed antisocial hermit.” 

Tom nodded. 

“I think…I’m going out on a limb, as I am an idiot when it comes to personal relationships, but I think the reason Benedict chased her down was because he felt that intense draw to her. I felt it when I first met her. I’ve noticed that about her. She draws people to her…well, when she leaves her apartment.”

Tom chuckled. “I did like her rather quickly, but I doubt we’ll ever be…well, very good friends like she seems to be with Ben.”

Pamela nodded. “Yeah. She and Ben were kind of instant best friends. Like me and her.”

“Yes, exactly.” 

“Did you feel…uh, and instant connection to me?” Pamela asked, looking determinedly down at the desktop on her end of the connection. 

Tom thought for a moment before saying, “Yes, darling. There was something about you.”

Tom smiled at the memory as Pamela turned her head back towards the computer screen.

“I liked you from the moment I first found you in Ben’s kitchen. By the time I left that first morning, I was determined to get to know you further and, well, by the evening I was…”

“I know,” Pamela quickly said before Tom could make her turn more red than she already was. 

“Connections are made in mysterious ways, Pamela,” Tom said quietly. 

And broken equally was left unsaid. 

“Is it strange that I am under to foolish belief we won’t break?” Pamela asked, sounding timid and small.

Tom contemplated her question. He had had serious relationships in the past. They had clearly not worked, even if he’d loved a few of the girls. Some were messy breakups, some they remained on friendly terms right away. Tom loved being in love, loved being loved in return. And yet, he always had this strange sinking feeling in the beginning it wouldn’t last. He’d always assumed it was a manifestation stemming from his parent’s relationship failing to work. Now, with thirty-two years of experience at living and loving, he was face with something new and baffling. 

Pamela Fitch. 

“No. Not at all,” Tom allowed. “I feel the same thing.” 

* * *

_Edited and reloaded 6 September 2013_


End file.
